The One With the Runny Pumpkin Pie
by ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild
Summary: It starts with a runny pumpkin pie. And, ends with Monica on the balcony. It continues with Chandler and Monica on the balcony, and a husband, making everything better for his wife. Mondler fluff/hurt/comfort


It starts with runny pumpkin pie.

And, ends with Monica on the balcony.

She's a great chef - make no mistake, if Monica Bing can do one thing, it's cook. But, she's under a lot of stress and it's the kind of stress that makes you forget things you thought you knew. Like the amount of milk in pumpkin pie - half a cup, not _one_ and a half cups. She's been making the same pie, using the same recipe, since she was old enough to bake.

 _But_ , she's been stressed.

And, Chandler is willing to admit that he's been less than the supportive husband he should be on this, the day of giving thanks. Honestly, he gets so cranky and bent out of shape, he forgets how much pressure is on his wife to make everything perfect.

So, when it becomes clear that this particular pie won't be doing what it should, when the rest of Thanksgiving dinner is almost ready, Monica's feeling the pressure to fix the problem and the decided lack of her support system only makes it worse.

"Mon," Rachel attempts to soothe the dark haired chef when it looks as if Monica might actually combust. Her arms wrap around her friend, and she rubs Monica's biceps. "It's alright, honey, we don't need pumpkin pie."

She doesn't realize.

Doesn't realize she's not helping. Doesn't realize how patronizing it is to Monica.

It doesn't sound wrong to Rachel, because they can do without pumpkin pie, it won't kill them. But various Thanksgiving disasters in the past have created this idea in Monica's head that they need to experience at least one _perfect_ Thanksgiving. And, what is that without pie?

"Oh no. This Thanksgiving can be a disaster just like all the rest." Monica's on the verge of tears. "You know," she flails her arm, pointing in the general vicinity of her husband. "I'm starting to get why he hates it so much. I think I hate it, too."

"Monica..."

"No. I just wanted to have at least one perfect Thanksgiving with the turkey and the pie and everyone I love." it's becoming clear that she's far more stressed than any of them realized. She rips away from Rachel, already heading for the balcony. "You guys just enjoy yourselves, I'll be out here. I hate this stupid holiday!"

"Mon!" Phoebe's almost in tears; always been a sympathetic soul.

"Just leave her, Pheebs." Joey's hand around her wrist gets her no further than a few steps away from where she was. "Chandler's got it."

It's only then that Phoebe realizes, Chandler had only been a few steps behind his wife.

xxx

"Mon," in a display of tenderness, his arms wrap around her waist, and he presses a kiss into her hair. "Hey."

"Hi." Monica grumbles miserably.

"Some morning, huh?" he shuffles in closer, huddling over her to protect her from the icy wind.

"Yeah." her weary sigh is a bright, neon sign to her husband that she has, had enough. She's exhausted and she needs someone to take the weight off of her shoulders.

"So, I was thinking." Chandler's voice is low and soft. "You've been under a lot of stress, lately. And, I haven't really been there, have I?"

"Not really."

"I'm sorry." he's always sorry when he's unable to be there for his wife; either because of work obligations, or because he can be a bit of an idiot. "I should be there for you. I should know when you're feeling stressed. And I should always, _always_ tell you I love you."

"You do." Monica's lips are pulling up, and he knows he's got her.

"I love you." Chandler's smiling, now, because she's relaxing, losing the stress of the morning, and giving into her husband. "And Mon," his voice is muffled by her hair, mouth moving against her head. "Don't hate this holiday because of me. I don't want you to hate this holiday for any reason. Okay?"

"But - "

"I know." his thumb draws circles on her stomach, palm warm and flat against the soft plain of flesh. "It comes with its own set of disasters, but you have four friends to share it with, and you have me. I count for something, right?"

"Of course, you do, Chandler." Monica's smile is languid and silly and affectionate and it's one of those smiles, he usually only ever sees after sex. She turns to face him, reaching up to latch onto his neck. "You count for everything."

"Well then." Chandler grins, pulling her closer, pressing her tighter against him as she pushes him back, until he's leaning against the cold brick that forms the barrier around the balcony. It's one of his typical only-for-Monica smiles in all of it's tender glory, and when his head tilts down, she's there, cold nose against his, watery eyes , and receptive to a kiss that she knows is coming. "I know what I'm thankful for, this year."

Monica just giggles.

There is no pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving dinner, that year. But, it is still the perfect Thanksgiving, Monica had been determined to give her friends, even if it had come with its own disasters.

And, uh, no.

The extra whipped cream was not wasted.

Joey would like to point out that he had _nothing_ to do with the suspicious consumption of two cans in less than twenty-four hours.


End file.
